


We've Only Just Begun

by OfPearlsAndShoelaces



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Everlark fluff, F/M, Holiday Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfPearlsAndShoelaces/pseuds/OfPearlsAndShoelaces
Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve in District 12, and a major change is on the horizon for Katniss and Peeta. Written for The Hunger Games Season of Hope Holiday Gift Exchange 2018.





	We've Only Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotAnIslander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAnIslander/gifts).



> Written for NotAnIslander, who requested the prompt: Katniss finds out she's going to have a baby. Merry Christmas and enjoy the Everlark fluff!

It has been a mild winter this year in District 12. With December almost at an end, a few weak flurries have made an appearance, but they’re insubstantial and always seem to disintegrate in the air before reaching the ground. An unusual occurrence for the district, it’s been something of a disappointment for Katniss. In her younger, hungrier years, harsh winters were a debilitating misfortune. An obstacle to her means of providing for her family. But now that hunger is no longer her most pressing worry, she has grown to adore the look of her forest when it’s fresh with snowfall- the trees and rocks and grass all blanketed in a thick layer of the soft, white down.

The lack of snowfall this year also means that the hunting has been generally superior to past years. As a result, her game bag weighs heavy on her shoulder as she trudges through town toward the square.

After dropping off her haul at the butcher’s and collecting her weekly fee, her next stop is the apothecary. It’s a quick visit- she knows the exact location of the item she needs. When the transaction is complete, she stuffs the paper bag into her coat pocket and steps back outside to make one more stop before heading home for the afternoon.

The air outside the bakery seems to sparkle with sugar; just stepping within a few yards of the place is enough to detect the decadent smells wafting through the square. Every oven is going full blast and the roaring heat surrounds her the instant she steps through the back door. Katniss inhales deeply, drinking in the dizzying aroma of fresh bread and pastries before a familiar pair of arms sweeps her off her feet into a crushing hug.

“Good hunt today?” says Peeta, pecking her on the nose. His face is flushed and giddy and beads of perspiration linger along his hairline. He’s been working since dawn this morning.

“Mm hmm.” She’s too busy seeking his lips to give a proper response. He reciprocates with much enthusiasm, his arms still around her with her feet hovering inches above the ground. She wraps her legs around his waist to support herself so that his hands are free to tangle in her hair. They melt into each other, every movement as practiced and natural as breathing. Katniss thinks she could remain here, just like this, for the rest of the afternoon.

But then an oven timer shrieks somewhere in the background, demanding attention. Peeta groans and lowers Katniss back to the floor with a regretful sigh. “Sorry about that. It’s part of a huge order.” Katniss only smiles and brushes away the loose flour his apron leaves on her jacket. Peeta wouldn’t have parted from her if it were not important. He’s been known to burn baked goods before- usually at times when her lips and tongue are unrelenting. They’ve christened this room more than once, more often than not sacrificing at least one tray’s worth of baked goods in the process. Sometimes more. But tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and Peeta has been working late all week in preparation for the district’s biggest holiday. Frosting cakes and decorating cookies and filling orders for everyone’s holiday celebrations. The tray he pulls from the oven now is lined with steaming chocolate turnovers. Katniss’s stomach grumbles audibly.

It’s so loud that Peeta’s ears perk up at the sound. Her undying love for his pastries is something that has only increased over the years. Peeta delights in feeding her and takes her rumbling stomach as a challenge. He never fails to impress. “Hungry?” he taunts, the corners of his mouth curled into a devious smile. 

“Only if you have something to spare,” Katniss demurs, adopting her finest faux- flirt voice. She knows full well that he always makes extra.

Peeta chuckles and gingerly grabs one of the piping hot turnovers from the tray and pops it into a paper bag. Then as an afterthought, he adds a second pastry to the bag as well. “Take one to Haymitch, too. I can’t remember the last time I saw him leave the house. I‘ll see you at home in a couple of hours?”

“Don’t be late,” she says, a promise in her voice. She accepts the bag and pulls him down for a goodbye kiss.

The turnover cools quickly in the chilly air as she munches her way toward home. As usual it’s delicious- like everything Peeta bakes- but the closer she gets to the house, the more unsettled she begins to feel. Her stomach is in knots by the time she barges through Haymitch’s front door. Predictably, she finds that he’s passed out on his couch. Judging by his unshaven face and the stains on his rumpled shirt, it’s obvious that he crashed here hours ago and has not moved since. Katniss drags him into a sitting position and stuffs the turnover and a mug of coffee into his hands. Before Haymitch can mutter more than a few of his favorite curses and a begrudging word of thanks, Katniss bolts out the door, leaving him to nurse his own hangover. There is something she has to do, and it can’t wait.

Back at home, Katniss perches on the edge of her bathtub, gnawing on the stubs of her fingernails. The unease claws at her insides as she stares blankly at the box in her hand. It’s the one she purchased at the apothecary earlier and she doesn’t have to read the instructions to know how it works. The test takes three minutes to give a conclusive result. She knows because it’s a three-minute wait she’s endured several times prior to this one, all to the same fruitless end. Usually Peeta waits with her, but the disappointment is worse if he’s there, because the feeling of failure accompanies his reassuring words and gestures. To that end, she has elected to take this one alone.

Despite his absence this time, that sickening feeling of failure smacks Katniss full force anyway when she picks up the dreaded white stick to read the results after the obligatory waiting period. Tears well up in her eyes and she buries it in the trash where Peeta won’t see. She cries because Peeta is everything to her- has _given_ everything to her- and she cannot give him this one thing. She cries because to her everlasting surprise, she’s found that she actually _wants_ a child. A piece of both her and Peeta. Someone to love and nurture, and with whom to share the childhood she never had. 

She cries because the tiniest fraction of her is relieved. 

Because there are lingering fears where children are concerned and it is for those reasons that it took her so long to agree to having them in the first place. They are not so far removed from being a society that steals its children and forces them into an arena. Or starves them to death. Or uses them as bait in a war. And yet, chief among her fears is the worrisome thought that she cannot have children at all. Perhaps her body has been through too much. Perhaps they’ve waited too long.

Like her beaten- down mentor next door, Katniss finds herself collapsed on the couch, and that is where she remains for the rest of the afternoon. The sun sinks below the horizon early this time of year, so the light fades quickly. She does not move even to start a fire in the chilly room. It is where Peeta finds her when he arrives home that evening, flushed from his walk and expecting an entirely different Katniss to greet him. She hears his familiar sounds- the removal of his coat and shoes, his grunts and sighs, and the cadence of his gait as he moves through the house. “Hey, Katniss!” he calls. She can’t muster the energy to respond to him. “Katniss?” His steps round the corner into the sitting room. “Kat- oh.” 

When he spies her unmoving form on the couch, his face falls and he approaches her cautiously. It is the same manner in which she creeps upon her prey. Slow and careful, so as not to spook it away. Peeta gives a soft groan when kneels on the floor beside the couch and he takes a moment to adjust his false leg before she feels the pads of his fingers in her hair. Against her will, she sighs into his touch as he works gentle pressure on her scalp.

The confusion is clear on his face as he tries to puzzle out what’s gone wrong in the hours since he’s last seen her. To find the missing link between her behavior in the bakery earlier and her slump now. But one of the many wonderful things about Peeta is that he has learned not to ask questions, knowing that she’ll talk to him when she’s ready. It’s a mutual understanding they reached long ago, and they’ve grown used to each other’s sudden shifts in mood over the years. Her melancholic spells and his hijacking episodes have become increasingly fewer and farther between in the fifteen years since the war, but each of them still knows exactly what to do for the other when those rare instances occur. “I brought dinner,” he murmurs. “If you’re up for it.” Katniss only groans into his hand. 

It takes a few more minutes of prodding, but she eventually allows him to pull her off the couch and into a chair at the kitchen table, where she picks at her food with more gentle encouragement from Peeta. After their quiet meal, he coaxes her into a warm bath laden with silky soap and lavender oil. His fingers continue their tender massage as he washes her hair. Lathers her body. Murmurs in her ear how much he loves her. 

On any other day his attentions would make her feel warm and safe and loved. But today she only feels all the more guilty for failing to deserve him yet again. 

After the bath, he tucks her into their bed with the promise that he’ll be back in a few minutes after his shower. True to his word, he is gone only a short time before he appears in the bedroom again. He’s wearing a fresh pair of underwear, his hair is tousled and damp, and he’s also clutching a white stick in his hand. “Katniss? Is… is this what’s wrong?” He holds up the negative pregnancy test. She nods. “Oh, _Katniss_.” Peeta climbs into bed beside her and offers his arms at once. She wiggles gratefully into them. “You remember the doctor said it could take some time…“ 

She buries her head in his chest. It is the same thing he said last month. And the month before that. This is a conversation they have so often had that Katniss knows the next thing Peeta will say before it leaves his mouth. It is tiring and old. And she has no desire to rehash it again. “ _Nine_ months, Peeta,” she reminds him before he can launch into his spiel. Nine months they’ve been actively trying to have a baby. Twelve since she received her last birth control shot. And countless days, weeks, months, _years_ that Peeta has wanted a baby.

“It’s gonna happen, Katniss. I know it is.” His determination is almost worse than her hopelessness. 

“Maybe-“ The horrible words don’t seem eager to leave her mouth. “Maybe we can’t. After the Games,” she whispers into his chest. They have never spoken this fear aloud, but it is always on the edge of her mind- and his too, she suspects- that their pasts may be impeding their future. First, there is the ubiquitous question of Peeta’s hijacking in the Capitol all those years ago. Any official record of his torture was destroyed before President Snow’s downfall and all those involved were executed. There is no certain way of knowing exactly what was done to him during that time. Did their techniques render him sterile? As for Katniss… well if _she_ is the problem it could be due to any number of things. The electric shock in the Quarter Quell. The gunshot wound. The years of stress and neglect on her body. The years of simply not having _enough_. 

“Don’t think like that.” Peeta’s voice pulls her out of that dark place, and somehow it’s even more soothing than the bath had been. “We’ll just have to keep trying. We’ve gotten pretty good at it.” He nudges her arm, trying to coax a smile out of her. She bursts into tears instead.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he croons. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Katniss.” He pulls away from her so that he can look her full in the face. “Listen to me. With all my heart, I believe it will happen for us. But if for some reason it doesn’t, just know that you are enough for me. You’ve always been enough.” His lips leave a tender kiss on her forehead before he settles down into the pillows, pulling her flush against his body.

Exhausted from his long day, Peeta falls asleep quickly, but Katniss lays awake well after his soft snores begin, trying with every fiber of her being to believe that what he says is true.

* * *

The district is its typical gray self on the last day of the year. Peeta rises before the sun that morning, promising that he’ll only work long enough to ensure that all the bakery deliveries are made before coming home. “And I believe we started something yesterday-” Peeta says, leaning in for a long, full kiss, “-that I would be more than happy to continue when I get back.”

Her limbs feel warm and heavy and her body wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, but Katniss does not allow herself to linger in bed for long after Peeta leaves. She’s had too much experience- knows herself too well- to wallow the rest of the day. Forcing herself into her usual routine, she dresses in warm layers and heads for the woods. The electric fence that used to surround the district is long gone, but out of pure habit she still enters in the place where the hole in the chain link used to be.The crisp, winter air and the freedom of the woods do wonders to clear her mind. 

Today she elected to leave her bow and arrows behind, tucked safely away in the front closet at home. Her back feels strangely naked in the absence of her quiver. But today is not a hunting day. 

Although she has no determined destination in mind, her feet carry her to a place she knows well. It’s a short walk- just barely inside the tree line. The yellow blooms are dormant now, but seeing the patch of wild primrose bushes brings her immediate peace anyway. Like the bath last night and Peeta’s calm reassurances, the sight of them is like a balm for her soul. It’s the same patch where Peeta found the bushes that adorn the side of their home. Wild and overgrown now, Katniss considers this place an extension of her own garden. She puts up fencing in the spring to keep the rabbits and chipmunks away, and does her best to keep up with the weeding and pruning to maintain the plants. They seem to have a mind of their own, however, because the patch grows larger by the year. Katniss doesn’t think Prim would have minded.

Prim, who used to love New Year’s Eve more than any other day of the year. It was always a special day in the district for every family- Merchant and Seam alike- because it was one of very few days with cause to celebrate. Even now that there is so much more to be thankful for, it’s the reminder of another year gone and the promise of a fresh beginning. The promise of a hopeful future. Each family has their own varying traditions, but most typically include a special meal together after which people exchange small tokens and gifts. Some of Katniss’s earliest memories consist of her father coming home with peppermints, or straw dolls, or even pinecones from the woods for her and Prim. A new ribbon or some fresh herbs for their mother. Even when their family had next to nothing, her father always made sure to make his girls feel extra special on New Year’s. 

Thinking of her father makes her heart ache, and it is not difficult to find the reason why. Because Katniss knows Peeta would be just as generous with his own children. He’d spoil them rotten on New Year’s with sweets and gifts. He’d take them to see the fireworks in the square at midnight- a new tradition that’s emerged in the years since the downfall of the old Capitol. Afterwards, their little family would head back home, where Katniss would sing her babies to sleep. 

“It’s a nice picture,” Katniss sighs aloud, aware that somewhere, Prim is rolling her eyes and shaking her head at her big sister. Because Prim would have had a beautiful family of tow- headed children by now. Light and hope emanated from her very being. She was genial and loving and smart. She would have flourished in this new Panem and she would have wanted the same for Katniss. 

The temperature is much lower than it was yesterday and it’s not long before the chill of the wind seeps through her layers of clothing, forcing Katniss to make her way home. She has work to do anyway, though she spares a last glance at the frozen primroses as she walks away. Says a silent thank you to her little sister. For listening. 

Back at home, Katniss is grateful to find that Peeta had the foresight to take their turkey out of the freezer last night. She shot the bird a couple of weeks ago, and it’s so heavy that dragging it home from the woods took her twice as long as usual. The butcher would have given her a premium price for it, but she knew the second her arrow pierced its eye that this was her holiday bird. It’s the kind of game she never could have afforded to keep for herself in the old days, a reality that is not lost on her as she begins prepping it for their New Year’s Eve feast. 

Once the turkey is dressed and tucked into the oven, a hot shower is in order next. Katniss has just finished re-braiding her damp hair when Peeta arrives home. His face splits into an infectious grin when he sees that she’s out of bed and showered and in positively good spirits. After last night, she knows that he had no idea which version of Katniss he’d find waiting for him. “You’re glowing,” he says. She rolls her eyes. “No, I mean it. You are practically radiant, Katniss Everdeen- Mellark,” he insists. His fingers enclose on her chin and his lips find hers. It’s tempting to let the kiss continue and develop into more. To tumble onto their bed and lose themselves for the rest of the afternoon.

But there is still work to be done.

Instead, they spend rest of the afternoon in the kitchen together, bumping hips and elbows as they finish cooking the final touches to their New Year’s Eve meal. Peeta makes two kinds of rolls and the cranberry sauce while Katniss shells peas and mashes potatoes. The turkey is nothing short of spectacular when they remove it from the oven, golden brown and glistening. It’s entirely too much food for three people, but it will feed them all for days. 

Haymitch shows up sometime around dusk to partake in the feast, bringing a bottle of wine and his ever- present sarcastic wit. He disappears shortly after devouring his fill of the unnecessarily lavish cake Peeta made for the occasion. He mutters something about “shutting the damn birds away,” before the fireworks begin. After he tends to his geese, he’ll lock himself away in solitude as he does every night. 

“We’ll give him his present tomorrow,” Peeta chuckles, casting a glance after their old mentor. “It’s not like he needs more alcohol tonight, anyway. Speaking of which-“ he pulls out a wrapped gift from behind his back- “Happy New Year, Katniss.” 

“But, Peeta-“ Years ago, they decided not to make a practice of exchanging New Year’s gifts. They have more now then they ever dreamed they would have, and gift- giving is more or less something they do for each other on a whim throughout the year instead. So Katniss finds herself without a gift for him in return. 

“It’s okay. Just- open it. Please.” Her trembling fingers undo the bow and wrapping paper before lifting the lid of the box to reveal something pale blue and impossibly soft inside. Upon closer inspection she finds that it is a blanket, the fabric dotted with tiny yellow flower buds and trimmed in satin ribbon. The perfect size for a baby. “I had it made a while ago. Out of one of Prim’s old dresses,” Peeta rushes to explain. “I hope you don’t mind. I was saving it for, well… but I thought tonight would be better instead.” Katniss gapes at him, at a loss for words. Peeta’s eager face falls. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’m just _so_ sure, Katniss. I _know_ it’s going to happen for us and I thought maybe a little bit of faith might help-“ 

“Shhh,” she silences him with a finger to his lips. “It’s perfect. I love it, Peeta.” The relief is clear on his features. 

They make it only as far as the living room before they collapse in a heap before the roaring fireplace. And in that spot, where they’ve mourned and toasted bread and whispered promises to one another, they try for their baby. Their bodies move in perfect sync with each other after fifteen years worth of practice. It is a rhythm they have perfected, that they know by heart, and yet still manages to thrill and surprise anew every time. His languid thrusts meet her rising hips with slow determination. Each movement sends a fresh wave of liquid pleasure coursing through her veins. It’s enough to make her head go fuzzy, so she busies herself nibbling the shell of his ear, kissing a trail across his jawline to meet his eager lips. Her hands splay over the muscles of his back, every cord strung as tight as her bowstring.

“This is real,” Peeta grunts. There’s a miniscule hint of a question in his statement, because even after all this time he still craves the reassurance. It is not nearly as frequent an occurrence as it used to be, but the old insecurity sometimes surfaces in moments when he is most vulnerable. 

And at every opportunity she tells him, “It’s real, Peeta. It’s always been real.” 

After, they lay wrapped together in a sated, tangled pile watching the flames dancing in the fireplace. Until nature catches up with Katniss. “Bathroom,” she murmurs, regretfully exiting their makeshift cocoon of blankets and Peeta’s arms. 

“Hurry back.” She glances back to catch him admiring her naked backside with a mischievous glint in his eye. Once she flicks on the bathroom light, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her face is flushed all the way to the tips of her ears and her hair is so disheveled it’s almost completely fallen out of its braid. After smoothing down the rumpled sweater they hadn’t gotten around to removing, she opens the medicine cabinet in search of her hairbrush when another object tumbles off the shelf and clatters into the sink. 

The box of pregnancy tests she bought at the apothecary yesterday. It’s in her hand and halfway back to its place on the shelf when something overtakes her and she pauses, her hand suspended in midair. And she figures, why not?

The three-minute waiting period is agonizing as usual, but she tries to occupy her hands by dragging a brush through her snarled hair and plaiting it down her back into a fresh braid. It’s stupid- wasteful, really- to try again right now. It’s not as though anything has changed since yesterday, and expecting a different result now is setting her up for disappointment. She tells herself this, bracing her heart for the impeding blow. Then almost casually, her eyes flit to the test.

Her heart skips a beat. And she doesn’t believe what she sees. Desperate for confirmation, Katniss chugs a glass of tap water and grabs the last unused test in the box. Surely, the first little plus sign cannot be right.

But this one confirms the first. 

A million discordant emotions grip at her chest. Fear. Bewilderment. Anxiety. Joy. 

It’s impossible to know which dominates above the others, so Katniss walks back downstairs in a numb stupor. Peeta is not on the floor by the fire where she left him. Instead, she finds the living room empty, her jeans and underwear draped neatly over the arm of the couch. After pulling them on with fumbling fingers, she finds him waiting for her outside on the porch swing, a nest of blankets tucked around him. His pale face brightens in the moonlight when he hears her approaching. “It’s almost time for the fireworks to start. Thought we could sit out here for a bit,” he says, lifting the blanket aside in invitation. Katniss tucks herself gratefully into his side. He hands her a mug of steaming hot chocolate and tucks the blanket around her so that she is covered from neck to toes in plushy warmth. 

For the first time all winter, the temperature is cold enough that when the swirling snowfall begins descending from the sky, it actually sticks to the ground. Within minutes there is a light layer of downy white concealing the grass. The bite of the frigid air stings her nose and cheeks, but the rest of her body is wonderfully cozy between the blanket and Peeta’s solid frame. When she takes a sip of the hot chocolate, her insides are flooded with warmth, too. The creamy, indulgent mixture has become a specialty of Peeta’s over the years, and tonight it does wonders to calm her restless mind. 

They know that midnight has arrived and a new year has begun when the fireworks begin in the square. From their front porch, Katniss and Peeta have a decent view of the celebration. The cheers of the crowd carry all the way to the house; their elation and hope permeates the air even from this distance. 

Eventually, the last explosion of color fizzles from the sky and the noise in the square dies away. After the town goes home to bed, the frosty breeze rustling through naked tree branches is the only sound left to be heard. It’s almost quiet enough to hear the snowflakes landing on the ground. Katniss is still toasty warm and curled into Peeta on the swing. His foot rocks them back and forth in a slow, swaying rhythm. If it weren’t for her buzzing mind, she thinks she could fall asleep just like this. 

“This year is going to be different,” Peeta’s quiet voice breaks into the dead silence. His foot stops rocking them, and his body shifts on the porch swing just enough to align his face with hers. “This- our life together- it’s something we’ve only just begun. And this year is going to be a good one, Katniss. I promise.” 

When he kisses her, he tastes like fresh snow and hot chocolate and new beginnings. And he doesn’t yet know how very correct he is. She thinks of the changes to come and a wave of fresh fear grips her again, but only for a moment. The steadiness that Peeta brings to everything radiates through his kiss and soothes her entire being. It’s a steadiness on which she has come to depend, and one that she will need in the coming months. But she will tell him soon. For now, this is enough.

Peeta is right, she thinks as he scoops her off the porch swing- blanket and all- and carries her back into the house. This year will be different.


End file.
